


The Long Way Around

by nightcalling



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Post-Season/Series AU, Road Trips, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcalling/pseuds/nightcalling
Summary: Steve turns around. He can’t believe his eyes. “Billy?”It’s weird calling him that, considering they’d never spoken more than a few words (and exchanged a lot of fists), but Steve is so taken aback that he blurts out the name without a second thought.Sure enough, it’s Billy standing there, still sporting the same blond curls, but they’re tied back and a bit longer than before. He still has those damn aviators. At least he knows how to button up a shirt now.“You’re a long way from Hawkins,” Billy says.





	The Long Way Around

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-series fic set 10 years later, in the summer of 1995. The battle of Starcourt still happened, but Billy and Heather (and Hopper) made it out alive. Steve and Billy are ~28 in this, and the kids are ~24, 25. The reason this fic exists is because I suddenly wanted to write a Leap Year AU for Steve and Billy, but in the end it dissolved into…this, which has nothing from the original premise intact other than the fact that they go on a mini roadtrip, lol. I did my best to research the areas and topics that are mentioned so that the entire thing is at least somewhat plausible. The implied/referenced homophobia is a very short moment presented by nameless OCs, but please message me if you’d like more specifics. Any mistakes are my own.

The moment Steve read on his itinerary that he was going to have to catch a transfer at Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix, Arizona, he knew this trip wasn’t going to go smoothly. So, after he steps off the plane and sees “CANCELLED” in big red letters next to his flight number on the arrival screen, he’s only mildly surprised. Just a day in the life of shitty situations.

It’s been nearly half a year since Dustin and Suzie announced that they were holding a ring ceremony and reception down in California on Monterey Beach. It’s a ridiculously pricey venue, but with the amount of funding the two were getting for their wacky inventions, Steve figured they’d be tempted to splurge a little.

The ceremony is on Saturday at 4 p.m. Right now, it’s Friday, and it’s 6 a.m. It’s too fucking early for this.

(He calls Dustin to update him on the situation. “You’ll figure something out, you always do,” Dustin mumbles sleepily, hanging up. Absolutely unhelpful.)

Well, the lady at the check-in desk said the next available flight to Monterey Regional Airport isn’t until Saturday at noon, which is fine, he’ll make it in time, but it’s still a pain in the ass because he’ll have to rush to the venue immediately after landing. He also doesn’t want to spend an entire day and night in the airport, but hotels are expensive.

On the other hand, it takes about half a day to drive from Phoenix to Monterey with no break. If the transfer had dumped him in LAX, at least it’d only be a five-hour commute. But, he’s not in LAX, and he doesn’t even have a car. Should he rent one? He could catch a cab instead, but that’s dumb because that would cost way more than just booking a room and calling it a day. 

He spends a good hour trying to figure out what the hell to do when he hears a voice behind him go, “Well, I’ll be.”

Steve turns around. He can’t believe his eyes. “_Billy?_”

It’s weird calling him that, considering they’d never spoken more than a few words (and exchanged a lot of fists), but Steve is so taken aback that he blurts out the name without a second thought.

Sure enough, it’s Billy standing there, still sporting the same blond curls, but they’re tied back and a bit longer than before. He still has those damn aviators. At least he knows how to button up a shirt now.

“You’re a long way from Hawkins,” Billy says.

Billy had moved back to California after the whole Mind Flayer fiasco, loaded up his Camaro and drove far, far away. Max stayed behind in Hawkins, but Steve knew they kept in touch from the stories she’d occasionally tell the group. He never asked about Billy, though; it didn’t seem right. Intrusive, almost.

Still, this isn’t California, it’s Nevada. What the hell was Billy doing here?

“Hello? Earth to Harrington.” Billy’s voice snaps Steve out of his reverie. Taking another look at Billy, Steve can tell he’s mellowed out a lot since their high school days. He seems more comfortable in his skin. There’s still that fighting spirit and electric charge from the way he carries himself, shoulders broad and strong, but his eyes are kinder and his stance is more open. This somehow makes his ability to instantly command any room he inhabits that much stronger. Steve’s not sure what to make of this new Billy.

“I, uh.” Steve clears his throat. “Need to get to Monterey.” He takes the fancy box with the rings out of his front jacket pocket and gives it a shake.

Billy raises his eyebrows. “You’re getting hitched?”

“God, no,” Steve says, waving his hand. “Dustin. And it’s not technically a wedding, they’ve already been married for a while, it’s just a ring ceremony and reception. They wanted to wait until everyone was available.”

“Ahh. Suzie.” Billy sounds like he’s just put two and two together. Max must’ve told him.

“Yeah, been a long time coming,” Steve smiles briefly. “Anyway, the reception’s tomorrow and my transfer flight got cancelled, so I guess you caught me standing here like an idiot,” he rambles on, putting the ring box away. “I’ll get a hotel or something.”

Billy gives him a look. “That’s a waste of money. I can drive you,” he says matter-of-factly, like that’s a normal thing to offer someone.

“Uh, thanks? I guess? But no way, man, that’s eleven hours, I can’t ask that of you, that’s crazy, and you have way better things to do,” Steve manages to get out, unprepared for this turn of events.

“You didn’t ask, maybe it’s a little crazy, but I need to be in Sacramento this Sunday, so it’s along the way,” Billy says easily. “Unless you’re trying to make this weird.”

Steve’s not trying to make it _weird_, it’s just strange to think that the last time they interacted, _really_ interacted, he was getting his ass kicked by Billy. And now he’s just going to…what, drive down to Monterey with him?

But that was so, so long ago, and Steve is tired, and he really doesn’t want to deal with nosy strangers or uncomfortable airport seats or expensive hotel rooms. Funny how out of the billions of people that exist in the entire world, Billy is one of the few that’s somehow a part of his life.

“Sure,” Steve finally decides. What the hell. “But I’m paying for food and gas, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Harrington.”

“Steve. I mean, at this point, you should just call me Steve. And hey, thanks a lot.”

Billy nods, gesturing toward the airport exit, and Steve follows him out.

\---

He still has his Chevy Camaro. “Of course I do, she’s my baby,” Billy says proudly when Steve brings it up. “Been with me through thick and thin.”

Steve remembers the day Billy drove up to Hawkins High, back when he was still with Nancy. There was something that caught his attention immediately when that shiny, blue car showed up in the parking lot. He couldn’t keep his eyes away. Nobody could. Billy Hargrove and Max Mayfield, crashing like thunder in Hawkins and bringing a storm with them. Steve kind of misses it, thinks about telling Billy this, but he takes a look at his profile and decides against it. It’s too silly, and Billy would probably accuse him of being sentimental, which he’s realized through the years that he kind of is.

Billy opens the back trunk. There’s a duffle bag sitting in the corner. “That for Sacramento?” Steve asks, parking his luggage next to it.

“Something like that,” Billy says, closing the trunk.

They’re silent when they hit the road. Steve looks out the window at the receding air traffic control tower and thinks about the last time he was inside this car, black-eyed and half-conscious in the back seat. He remembers the monsters that they fought in the past, the way they’ve made a home inside of him and left a lingering presence, even after ten years.

After what couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes, Billy pulls off the highway and into a gas station. He puts the Camaro into park and glances over at Steve.

“I said I’m paying,” Steve says, getting out of the car.

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” Billy replies. “Pump seven.”

Steve goes inside the station, pays for the gas, and grabs some energy bars and water before coming back out. He opens the door to see Billy talking to someone on the payphone nearby.

“Shut up, I said I’m sorry, alright? Yes, I’ll make it up to you,” Steve hears Billy saying in an exasperated, fond voice. “_Yes_, yes, I promise.”

Steve heads back to the car and sits inside. As he munches on one of the energy bars, he sees Billy turn around, phone still sandwiched between his left ear and his shoulder. Then, Billy laughs, head shaking with the faintest hint of a blush on his face. Steve feels like he’s intruding on something personal, so he turns away and drinks a sip from his water bottle.

When Billy finally hangs up, he comes back and puts the gas pump away. They head back down the highway, and they’re a good distance away from Phoenix when Steve’s curiosity gets the best of him. “Who were you talking to?”

“Heather.”

“Heather Holloway?” Steve is surprised. He knew they were close but not that close. “Are you guys, uh.”

Billy flashes Steve his signature Billy Hargrove smile, the one that charmed all the ladies of Hawkins. “We live together.”

Oh. “Cool. How is she, after…?”

“She’s a force, definitely handled all that monster shit way better than I did,” Billy responds, eyes glowing in the rising sun. “Dunno if I would’ve made it out in one piece without her, to be honest. I owe it to her.”

Steve swallows, unsure of what to say. He’d deny it if anyone ever asked, but he’s spent a lot of time reliving the events of July 4, 1985 over and over in his head, repeatedly painting a picture of the Billy that he could’ve gotten to know if he had been able to do more than simply watch from the second floor of Starcourt. In retrospect, he should’ve realized that this was an exercise in futility. Every variation of Billy Hargrove that lives inside his mind is miles away from the one that’s sitting next to him.

“So, if you have the rings,” Billy says after a few minutes, “why aren’t you down there already?”

“I’m not technically the best man,” Steve replies, shoving his thoughts away. “Well, sort of. An honorary best man.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Will is the official best man that’s keeping everyone on track because he’s the most responsible one,” Steve says. “It also means that Dustin asked me first, but I couldn’t say yes. Before he left for Monterey last week, though, he told me he wanted me to hold onto the rings until the day of the ceremony, so here I am.”

“Not sure that’s how all this works.”

“Maybe, I don’t mind as long as it makes them happy,” Steve shrugs. “But you can’t have a ring ceremony with no rings, so I definitely need to haul ass.”

“Thought you would’ve dropped everything to do the best man gig, considering.”

Steve tilts his head. “Considering?”

“_Considering_, that you’re basically family,” Billy gestures with one hand. “Or so I’m told.”

Family, huh? “Trust me, I wanted to say yes, but I had some other kids to take care of, so I didn’t really have the time.”

Billy gives him a pointed look at _some other kids_, so Steve quickly clarifies, “I’m a teacher. I teach middle school gym and coach some of the teams.”

This draws a Cheshire grin out of Billy. “King Steve, finally made it to the top of the chain.”

Steve scoffs and shifts in his seat. “If you say so. But you remember the away games we had, and it’s summer tournament season, so I’ve been all over the place.”

Billy drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “You have a favorite sport?”

“Not really.” Steve looks down at the fading callouses on his hands. “I used to really like baseball, but I’ve grown out of it.” He senses Billy freeze beside him, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, so he must have imagined it.

“I get that, happens to all of us,” Billy comments after a few beats. Then, “More of a basketball person, myself.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh yeah, how could I forget.”

Billy hums. “We were both dumbasses back then.”

“Speak for yourself, I was just trying to play the game—”

“Your form was shit though, don’t think any amount of time could’ve changed that,” Billy continues, undeterred.

“—and hey, douchebag, I haven’t seen enough of you to decide that you’re not still a dumbass—”

“I mean, the fucking terrible dribbling and the same predictable run up the right side? C’mon.”

“—but it’s nice to know you’re definitely still just an ass, period,” Steve finishes.

He doesn’t mean to say any of this, knows he can do better with his brain-to-mouth filter, but being around Billy has always brought out the most impulsive and least sensible version of himself. They exchange looks, and Steve thinks Billy is turning away out of anger until he sees him hiding a grin behind a fist, shoulders shaking. Steve feels himself smiling, and then they both burst out laughing. The car nearly swerves to the next lane over before Billy pulls it back under control.

The drive is nice after that. They swap stories on what they’ve missed in the past ten years. He tells Billy about the kids at Hawkins Middle, how the basketball team is absolute shit compared to when they were in school. (“They’re three years younger than we were, Steve,” Billy states. Steve waves him off.) He talks about how everybody else has slowly left Hawkins, first Nancy and Jonathan after they got jobs at The Boston Globe, then Robin who is now performing in New York after he convinced her to pursue her dream in acting, then finally the kids as they graduated high school and went off to college, one by one, to do brilliant things. (He doesn’t mention the fact that he’s the only one left in Hawkins, the one remaining constant in an ever-changing world, even though he wanted nothing more than to get out as well.)

In exchange, Steve learns that Billy’s in social work, traveling around California to make sure kids are in good families and that their environments are safe. He’s still low on the ladder but is working toward a degree that will allow him to practice at the clinical level. Therapy, both physical and emotional, helped Billy out of a lot of dark times, and he tries to be an advocate for mental health awareness whenever he can. They both love working with children even if they can drive them a little crazy sometimes.

Steve also learns that Heather’s a gymnast, competing across the country and occasionally appearing in traveling shows. They met again at a bar during one of her tours in Los Angeles, hit it off like they never parted, and decided to get a place in the city together.

“Why were you in Phoenix, then?” Steve asks, ignoring the dull pain that’s building in his chest.

“For work, getting an idea of how procedures differ in other states,” Billy says. “It’s a lot of driving around, but I like it. It’s worth it.”

Steve doesn’t know a lot about Billy’s history pre-Hawkins, but he understands from the little Max has divulged that he has his fair share of demons. His mind flips through the many not-Billys he’s created in his head, and his heart rests easy upon seeing that the real Billy is doing better.

The conversation winds down into a comfortable lull and Steve leans into the headrest, content to simply sit and share the space.

\---

Unfortunately, the lull becomes less bearable when they get caught up in a traffic jam. It’s nearly 2 p.m., they haven’t eaten yet, and they’re stuck at Palm Springs.

“It’s not usually like this,” Billy remarks as he turns off the engine. “We might not make it there ‘til midnight if this keeps up.”

Steve hears the unspoken _or ‘til tomorrow_ buried in that sentence and wonders if this is punishment for his quip about the shitty Hawkins Middle basketball team. He sees Billy hiding a yawn in his periphery and feels guilty.

“Dustin might kill me but there’s no real reason I have to be there tonight,” Steve offers, going for nonchalant. If Billy picks up on his bullshit, he doesn’t make any indication of it. “Also probably safer for both of us if you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

Billy twists the ring on his middle finger a few times, then nods. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Steve echoes, as the line begins to move.

\---

They finally make it to Los Angeles around 4 p.m., and it’s smooth sailing from there as they blip past Santa Barbara and into Santa Maria in less than three hours.

“Hey, there’s a drive-in not too far from here,” Steve says, gesturing to an advertisement as they make their second pitstop for gas.

Billy peers at the sign. “_Judge Dredd_?”

“It looks fun. Listen, we don’t have to, I just figured, since we’re going to find a place to crash tonight anyway…” Steve explains, hands waving and slightly embarrassed. He has no idea what Billy’s taste in movies is but he always got teased by Robin for his, so he braces himself for something similar.

Instead, Billy looks at his watch. “Starts in twenty minutes, we can make it.”

They accidentally drive too far because they have an argument about which turn to take, the one at the light or at the stop sign. By the time they loop back (it was the one at the light), the previews and the first couple of minutes have already played, and the lot is packed. They find an empty spot near the back corner, next to the neon lights of the drive-in. Steve steps out of the car, settles on the hood, and thinks it’s perfect. Billy follows him out and sits down next to him, arm just barely pressed to his.

“I don’t really know what’s happening,” Steve whispers to Billy halfway through the movie, leaning over closely.

It must’ve looked like something completely different from far away, because some loud jeers and laughter burst out from behind them. Steve turns to see a group of teenagers heading over from the concession booth, not even trying to be subtle about pointing fingers and making crude gestures. He’s about to throw hands with them when Billy grabs his shoulder, pulls him in, and gives him just enough time to realize what he’s doing before planting a kiss on his temple, eyes staring down the teenagers until they grow quiet and slink away to their cars. Steve is stunned nonetheless.

“What little shits,” is all Billy says, and he lets Steve go just like that. Steve can feel the ghost of Billy’s hand and mouth on his skin. It makes him shiver even though it’s nearly seventy-five degrees outside.

“Sorry,” Billy adds hesitantly. Steve has never known Billy to be cautious, can sense the mild concern radiating off of him. He absolutely does not want Billy to get the wrong idea about why the last five minutes have sent him into a whirlwind, so he promptly shakes his head and responds, “It’s fine, that was totally the best way to deal with those jackasses.”

Billy visibly relaxes, and they sit through the rest of the movie in silence. Despite what he said, Steve can’t concentrate, spends the entire time feeling his stomach twist inside and out. When the credits finally roll, he faintly registers Billy hopping off the hood.

“Hey, we gotta go if we want to find a place to stay,” Billy calls from inside the car.

They drive around for a solid forty minutes or so, and as luck would have it, all they see are “No Vacancy” signs. When they pass the eighth such sign, it’s just past 1:00 a.m., and they’re both sick of looking.

“I guess we’ll have to sleep in the car?” Steve asks, dreading the answer.

Billy shrugs. “Looks that way. I’ve done it plenty before, but from your face you don’t seem too keen on the idea. Worried you won’t get your beauty sleep?”

“Ha, ha.” Steve slaps Billy lightly on the arm, then curses inwardly for doing so. He’s worried, alright, but not for the reasons Billy is thinking.

They pull into a nearby rest area, parking below a tree. Billy tilts his seat backward and settles in, but Steve doesn’t have it so easy. He can’t help tossing and turning, and it’s not because the Camaro is uncomfortable, the seat’s actually pretty decent for a car, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can hear is Billy’s rhythmic breathing in tandem with the ambient noise from their surroundings. It’s probably the most intimate situation he’s ever been in in his entire life.

“You cold or somethin’?” Billy asks after Steve shifts a fifth time. Shit.

“Just not used to this,” which is the truth.

“What’d I tell you,” Billy says, smirk evident in his voice. “I have something in the trunk, hold on.”

Steve’s about to tell him not to bother, but Billy’s already out the car. When he comes back, he drapes a blanket over Steve, leaning over his torso and bracketing him on either side. As their eyes meet, Steve’s brain unhelpfully conjures up memories of being enclosed by Billy’s arms once before, but he can’t recall when it occurred. Was it during their fight in the Byers house? Back when they were playing that stupid basketball game in gym class? When they were both naked afterwards in the shower? Fuck, everything’s bleeding together, he can’t separate fact from fiction, and Billy is still suspended above him.

Suddenly, Billy inhales sharply and pushes off the seat with one arm. Steve’s hands tingle at a recollection of finger on flesh, echoes of _get out_ reverberating in his mind loudly. In one smooth motion, Billy is back on his own side of the car, and if Steve wasn’t cold earlier, he certainly feels it now. He can also still hear Billy’s breathing, but it’s faster and more erratic than it was previously. Or maybe that’s his own breathing, mixed in with Billy’s.

Before he can think otherwise, Steve rolls to face Billy and positions the blanket so that they’re both underneath it, palms running momentarily over Billy’s shoulder as he does so. “It’s big enough for both of us,” he says when Billy moves to look at him, inching forward with an intensity burning in his pupils. Steve forces himself to close his eyes before he does anything else dangerous, breathes in Billy’s scent, and wills the night to carry him away, heart pounding like drums in his chest.

\---

When Steve wakes, the morning is quiet, and Billy is still asleep. He glances at the clock. 7:24 a.m.

He untangles himself from the blanket and steps out into the sunlight. There’s still nobody else around. He decides to take a few laps around the rest area, and on his third round, Billy is awake and sitting on the side pavement.

“Never pegged you for a morning jogger.”

“Gotta stay in shape if I want to keep my job. Can you pop open the trunk? Need to get something.”

Steve cleans up his sweat and puts on his suit in the bathroom. He returns to the car with his jeans and t-shirt in one hand, his jacket in the other. “Figured I shouldn’t show up to the reception in these,” he says when Billy gives him a slow look-over, throwing his clothes into the back seat. “Even if this suit is wrinkled and smells vaguely weird.”

“You’ve been in worse shape,” Billy comments before shifting his gaze away. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

They stop for breakfast at a small diner around 8:45 a.m., and as he watches Billy eat his second helping of eggs, Steve finds himself lamenting the fact that they only have around three hours left to go before they get to Monterey Beach.

“We don’t have to hurry,” Steve says, feeling the dull pain in his chest return as he pushes his bacon around with a fork. “Let’s stop at some other places along the way.”

“You don’t want to be late,” Billy replies with a tentative look on his face, spoonful of eggs halfway to his mouth.

“We won’t. But it’ll be on me if we are.”

They wander as they drive, hiking up trails in state parks, pausing at scenic pullouts, and exploring quaint, nameless towns along the way. The seconds tick by like running water, and it’s just before 3 p.m. as they pull into the venue’s parking lot. Steve scrambles out, straightens his tie, and scans the crowd of people getting ready to head down to the beach.

“Hey, Dustin, hey,” Steve yells, spotting Dustin’s signature curls and running up to give him a hug. “Sorry I’m so late, man.”

“You bastard, I almost thought I had to call the police!” Dustin responds with a goofy smile, lightly punching him in the shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“I’m really sorry,” Steve repeats, sincerely.

“Plane comfy, at least?”

“Um, I didn’t actually…” Steve trails off. At Dustin’s inquisitive look, Steve shifts awkwardly to the side and gestures behind him.

Dustin squints. “Is that _Billy Hargrove_?”

“The one and only.”

“How? Why?”

“He kind of drove me here.”

“He _drove_ you here?” Dustin exclaims. “From _Phoenix_?”

“Yeah, because, you know…hotels and airports and stuff,” Steve explains weakly. “It made more sense in the moment, okay?”

Dustin looks at Billy, back at Steve, and then back at Billy again. “Hey,” he calls out. “Thanks for getting Steve here in one piece.”

“No problem, I was about to leave. Congratulations, by the way,” Billy says, who had gotten out of the car at some point and was standing a good distance away. He turns to get back in the Camaro, and something about the sight makes Steve uneasy.

“Hey, you should stay,” he states, before he can think twice. He looks at Dustin for backup. “He can stay, right?”

Dustin is still peering at Billy, who has the car door open. “We can make room for one more,” he finally allows. Which should be fine and dandy and all, but Dustin directs this _smirk_ at Steve, and Steve has no idea what to make of that.

“Anyway, ceremony starts in an hour, you have my rings?” Dustin holds his hand out expectantly, smirk still plastered on his face.

Steve fishes out the box, narrowing his eyes at Dustin. “Watch it, Henderson.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Dustin asks innocently, taking the box and turning around to blend in with the rest of the guests.

\---

The ceremony begins promptly at 4 p.m. and it’s lovely, but Steve can’t help but notice Billy fidgeting next to him the entire time.

“You okay?” he asks, once the crowd breaks out for the reception. “I thought you didn’t have to be in Sacramento until tomorrow. I’m sure they can find an extra room for you here.”

Billy is about to open his mouth when they hear a loud squeak.

“Oh my god!” Max runs over and hugs Billy, squeezing him tight. Steve feels the edge of his mouth quirk up in amusement.

“Sorry, I mentioned you were here and she made a direct beeline toward you,” Dustin says, jogging in.

“’s all good,” Billy starts, but Max butts in with, “I thought you were supposed to be in Seattle—”

Billy promptly clasps a hand over Max’s mouth, but Steve already overheard. “You mean Sacramento?” he asks.

Steve watches impressively as Max wrestles out of Billy’s hold. “Uh, no, I mean Seattle. Like, in Washington? Why would he be going to Sacramento?”

“Because he has to be there for work, or something?” Steve tries.

Max glances with a raised eyebrow at Billy, who is avoiding their gazes and looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. “You don’t have work this weekend,” she states suspiciously. “He doesn’t have work this weekend.”

“Yeah, well, change of plans,” Billy grumbles out. “And speaking of which, I should get going. Congratulations again,” he says to Dustin, before turning to leave.

“Billy, wait—” Steve begins to say, but Billy is already heading back toward the parking lot. He watches as his silhouette fades slowly away, a funny feeling sinking in his stomach.

“Okay,” Dustin drawls, breaking the silence. “What was that about?”

Dustin and Max both turn to look at Steve, and it suddenly feels like an interrogation. “Explain,” Max demands.

“Look, my flight got cancelled and Billy happened to be at the airport, so he offered to drive me here, okay? Said it was along the way to Sacramento,” Steve repeats for what feels like the umpteenth time, slightly annoyed that he’s stuck justifying the situation.

“Because he has work,” Max states, a half-question.

“That’s what he said. Or implied, anyway, he never actually said for sure.”

“They drove from Phoenix,” Dustin whispers to Max.

“_They drove from Phoenix?_” Max whispers loudly back.

“I can hear you guys,” Steve says, hands on his hips. “Whatever, okay? I’m here, we didn’t kill each other along the way, I don’t know why it matters.”

“You don’t care why he apparently lied about having to go to Sacramento?” Max inquires.

Steve doesn’t care. Not really. Why should he? He’s a little hurt, and confused, sure, but whether Billy has to be in Sacramento or Seattle, it makes no difference to him. The pain in his chest hums louder. He shrugs. “No.”

Max makes a face that indicates she can smell bullshit. “Right.”

Dustin lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve. I know you said a long time ago that the best way to get someone’s attention is to act like you don’t care,” he says solemnly. “But I think you need to switch tactics, because that’s not getting you anywhere.”

Steve does _not_ flush, instead says, “It’s not like that, okay, I’m just confused about what the hell is going on.”

“Sure, man. I’m just saying, as a third-party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter, the way you two are acting is not working.”

“At all,” Max adds helpfully.

Steve squints at Max and turns to Dustin. “Henderson, don’t you have some other people to bother? Your wife, maybe?”

“Hey, leave Suzie out of this,” Dustin says with no heat. His eyes go from playful to gentle. “It’s been ten years. Now go forth and be brave.”

With a push, Steve goes.

\---

The sun is setting. Steve treks back up the beach, trying and failing to get his nerves down. When he reaches the top, he sees Billy leaning against the hood of his Camaro at the edge of the parking lot, overlooking the ocean in the horizon. It’s a really nice view.

“Got room for one more?” Steve asks, walking over and pausing an arm’s length away from Billy. He’s smoking, which makes Steve realize it’s the first time he’s seen him smoke all trip.

“I’ve mostly quit,” Billy explains.

“But?”

“But,” Billy says, tilting his head slightly forward, curls falling into his eyes. “Sometimes bad habits come back.”

They watch the sunset in silence, laughter from the reception crowd occasionally carried over by the wind.

“Where are you headed after this?” Steve asks carefully. He notices Billy tense ever so slightly.

When Billy doesn’t say anything, Steve adds, “I don’t know why you offered to drive me, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad you did.”

Steve chances a glance at Billy, who’s now staring back at him with an expression that Steve can’t quite read. But, it doesn’t feel intimidating to be pinned under those eyes. It feels pleasant. Steve feels seen.

Billy looks away at the sunset after a few beats, the orange and pink from the sky reflected on his face. “Do you remember July 4?”

Steve keeps still, nerves still flowing through him.

Billy doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I was scared. Really scared. Not for reasons you might be thinking. I was scared that I would hurt Max. El. The rest of the kids.” He turns to meet Steve in the eyes, cigarette trembling in his hand.

“And I was scared that I would hurt you.” His gaze is steady, and Steve feels weightless under it.

Seagulls cry distantly in the background. There are a million thoughts coursing through Steve’s mind, but there’s only one that he latches onto.

“I was scared, too,” Steve confesses quietly. “I was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

Billy’s eyes widen. The trembling in his hand grows stronger.

“I was scared you wouldn’t come back,” Steve repeats, louder. “And I think I only just understood what that means.” He briefly squeezes his eyes shut. Then, he puts a hand out on the car hood, braces himself, and kisses Billy.

It was supposed to just be a quick press of lips, but Steve finds himself lingering in Billy’s scent, the same sweetness as last night that’s now smoky from the cigarette and salty from the ocean. When his brain finally catches up to his actions, he pulls back hastily, “Shit, sorry, I—"

Billy reaches over with his free hand and hauls Steve back in by the neck, cutting him off. A soft noise escapes Steve as he stumbles forward, thrown off by the sudden movement. The Camaro dips beneath them with a creak. After registering that Billy isn’t going to let go anytime soon, Steve wraps his hands around Billy’s waist, pulling him in even closer until he feels like he’s going to combust. The sky is beautiful, the ocean is calm, and he’s kissing Billy Hargrove; but, the pain in his chest is still there.

“Wait, wait, I—” Steve stammers, forcing himself back. Billy leans in to follow his lips, but Steve keeps him at bay. “What about Heather?”

Billy’s face twists into confusion. Steve is really distracted by the way his nose scrunches up.

“What about her?”

“Aren’t you two, you know,” Steve explains desperately. “A thing?”

Neither of them says anything for what seems like an eternity before Billy finally lets out a sigh. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” Steve’s about to protest when Billy continues, “No, Heather and I are not a thing, okay? She’s not—we’re just friends.”

Steve is sent back to the summer of 1985, a memory of bathroom stalls and checkered tiles flashing through his mind. _Oh._

“Oh,” Steve says, blushing.

Billy directs an irritated, affectionate look at him, an echo of the one he had when he was talking to Heather on the payphone, but with a hint of something more. “Yeah. We good now? Any more ridiculous misunderstandings we need to clear up?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Yes, asshole. You don’t really need to be in Sacramento, do you.”

Billy leans back but doesn’t let Steve go. “No.”

“Then why…?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?” Billy lets his hand drop down to Steve’s waist. “Remember what I said about Heather being in touring shows? She’s in one this weekend in Seattle. I wanted to go because it’s a really big one, she auditioned the crap out of it and finally got a part. I was in Phoenix for work, that part’s true, so I was gonna catch a flight there.” He pulls a crumpled plane ticket out of his back pocket.

“But then you saw me,” Steve says slowly, thinking about the duffle bag in the trunk.

Billy crosses his arms. “Standing there like an idiot.”

“Is that why you were on the phone with her?” Steve can’t help it. He has to know; he has to be sure.

“Yes, Steve, I had to explain to Heather why I was bailing at the last minute, alright?” Billy shifts his eyes away, flushing slightly. “She got a kick out of it.”

“She wasn’t angry?”

Billy shakes his head. “No, she had told me not to come anyway, said it was too far. I actually think she prefers the way the situation turned out. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

Steve grins. “Well, for the record, I prefer the way the situation turned out, too.”

“I’m starting to regret my actions because I forgot what a complete ass you are,” Billy remarks, twirling the end of Steve’s tie in his hand. “I clearly wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No, we weren’t,” Steve says seriously, curling his hands behind Billy’s back. “Guess we’re both still dumbasses.” He catches a fleeting glimpse of Billy’s affronted look before he closes the distance between them once more, feeling the smile on Billy’s lips as the pain in his chest disappears.

When he pulls back, Billy holds his hands firm on Steve’s hips, keeping him close. “I really wanted to have my way with you last night,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on Steve’s cheek, “the way you laid there all sprawled out in my car”—on Steve’s jaw—“with your big eyes”—on Steve’s throat—“and your stupid hair.”

Steve thinks he should feel insulted, but he’s just charmed and incredibly breathless. “I would’ve let you, you should’ve gone for it,” he whispers, tightening his grip on Billy’s jacket. “I nearly lost my mind at the drive-in, with that stunt you pulled.”

“Didn’t want to make a mistake,” Billy says honestly, running his thumbs over Steve’s hipbones. “And those shits deserved it.”

“Dustin will be insufferable after he finds out.”

“I think he already knows.”

Steve considers this as he covers Billy’s hands with his own. “Well, how long is it to Sacramento?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did Billy decide to drive Steve down to the reception even though he knew Max would be there and yet did not come up with a single good excuse to explain his presence in case he ran into her? Yes. Yes, he did.
> 
> (Additional fun fact: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie came out in July 1995 and it took all my self-control to not make that the movie they see at the drive-in.)


End file.
